


Honey, you’re familiar like my mirror years ago

by georgianablythe16



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9103435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgianablythe16/pseuds/georgianablythe16
Summary: Canon speculation/most likely eventual divergence for 6x10 and 6x11: Emma runs into the wish realm version of her true love, and finds that her princess counterpart was not as innocent as she seemed.My CSSS gift for @flipperbrain :)





	

There are many things that Emma Swan knows.

She knows that you should never let your gas tank run out when it’s the dead of winter in Massachusetts. She knows that if you’re going to wear heels to catch a perp then you better have a backup plan if they run because _fuck_ no. She knows that little boys should absolutely not be allowed to eat cap’n crunch before bedtime, especially if they sneak chocolate milk in the bowl. And she knows that when the Evil Queen is involved, you should probably expect that shit will go from bad to worse in the blink of an eye, or in this case, the closing of a portal.

Because god, what a clusterfuck.

She can’t say she’s angry at Regina, because it’s Robin, and Emma knows that if she had been in that situation, and a breathing, smooth-talking Killian Jones were to enter back into her life in a sudden second, well, a portal would be the last thing on her mind.

Still, Emma wishes she had just grabbed them both and jumped, figured out the rest later as she laid in bed next to her pirate, with her kid sleeping safe and sound down the hall.

Instead, here she is, sitting in her pretty princess dress, white gloves and white dress, fur-lined cape and painted lips (she’ll give her wish realm counterpart some props, though, because her hair looks _great)_ and she’s got no idea where to go.

So yeah, Emma Swan knows many things, but she sure as hell doesn’t know how to get herself out of this mess.

Regina and Robin went off to “talk” somewhere private, though Emma suspects talking will lead to something entirely different in just a short period of time, and she doesn’t want to be around _any_ of that.

Instead, she finds herself perched on a barstool in some dive of a tavern, running her fingernail along the grain of the wood and playing a game of _hey, I wonder if I can avoid getting a splinter!_ with herself.

She’s losing, but it’s the effort that counts.

She wishes Killian were here, but that’s no surprise, she always wishes Killian were with her. He’s her best friend, the one person she can always confide in, can always trust. He’s steadfast and confident, kind but bullheaded. He’s just like her in every way that counts, and different in every way she needs.

She sighs, fiddling with one of the decorative rings on her fingers. She has a whole array of them, thin gold bands on every digit except for the one that counts.

So no fiancé then. She can’t say the news doesn’t help her mood because at least now she won’t have to run into some stupid prince and explain to him that no, he will not be getting a wife anytime soon if he insists on chasing after her.

Despite the rings, there’s little jewelry adorning her body, which, if anything, bodes as strange to Emma. Sure she has no clue what it means to be a princess of the Enchanted Forest (Jesus) but she would figure she’d be decked out in gold and jewels, not these simple rings.

With that thought, she’s reminded of the heavy weight around her neck. She’s been curious about it since she regained her true mind, but with the murdering of her parents (seriously, what the fuck) and the whole portal closing, not to mention the mess of Robin’s return, well, she just hasn’t had a chance to look at the piece of jewelry she knows is there, the warm metal resting comfortably between her breasts.

She fingers the linked chain, too lost in thought to think about withdrawing it from it’s hiding place at the moment. Instead, she focuses on figuring out a plan. She wants to get back home. Back to her parents, back to her son, back to her true love.

She has to hide a smile at that, it’s still so weird to say, to even think. Her true love. She has a true love, and it’s not some prince on a white stead, but a pirate in black leather and eyeliner, a wild smirk on his face and love in his blue eyes.

Captain Hook is her true love, and god does she miss him.

He would have an idea what to do from here, some wise old wisdom he acquired from his literal hundreds of years of life experience.

He would also have comforting words and touches, lingering kisses and playful smiles.

She wonders briefly what he’s doing right now (probably trying to find her, romantic that he is) but her thoughts quickly stray. She can’t spend this time reminiscing about her life back at home, she needs to figure out a plan, and for that, she needs some fresh air.

* * *

 

It’s odd that no one seems to have recognized her yet. Granted, the tavern wasn’t bustling, but it wasn’t empty either, and the bartender got a pretty good look at her face before handing over the tumbler of rum.

But as she makes it out the door of the tavern, undisturbed and unharmed, she finds she really doesn’t care that she wasn’t recognized, she’s just glad to be on her way with no further disturbances.

Regina said she would meet her at the same tavern at sunset, but that was still a few hours away, and Emma isn’t the kind to just sit around and wait. She has a plan to figure out, and she can’t do that if she’s sitting at a bar bemoaning her situation.

She’s about to make her way down to the docks, the waterside always a sure way to clear her mind when she’s grabbed by her wrist and pulled into a darkened alley.

Emma Swan has dealt with her fair number of handsy assholes so it’s no problem for her to throw back an elbow and hit her would-be-assailant straight in the nose. Or at least, that’s what she aims to do, her projection just slightly off, catching the bastard in the jaw.

It’s effective besides the bad aim, and she’s about to take off when she’s stopped in her tracks, the words of her victim halting her feet and chilling her blood.

“Bloody hell, Emma! What was that for?”

She thinks it must be a trick of the mind at first. Her brain’s way of dealing with the separation and the loneliness, but when she turns around and comes face to face (well not exactly face to face, he’s still lying on the ground) with her true love she knows this is real.

“ _Killian?_ ”

He rubs his jaw with his hand, wincing at the pain that must still linger, “Aye. Suppose I deserved it, grabbing you like that, but in my defense, love, you were late for our meeting and I was just a wee bit more excited than normal to see my princess.”

“Our meeting?” she questions with a tilt of her head, thrown by the sudden turn of events. Why was sweet, innocent Princess Emma meeting with a pirate captain?

Wish realm Killian finally stands up from his spot on the ground, brushing the dirt from his trousers. He looks at her with his too-blue eyes, his face a mask of confusion and hurt, but the expression quickly changes to one of nonchalance, a smirk settled on his face.

“Forget about me, already, Princess? I must say I’m a tad offended,” he takes a step toward her, leaning down far enough for his mouth to be level with her ear, his warm breath blowing over the skin of her neck, making her shudder. “Especially after last time. Do you remember that, Princess? How you begged me for more? Told me you wouldn’t be able to walk for _days._ Don’t tell me you forgot already, darling.”

_Holy shit._

“Wait, what?” Emma says on a laugh, incredulity taking over her good senses for a moment, but it’s just enough to lose him.

He takes a step back from her, and it’s been awhile since she’s seen him this hurt. She can’t make out his features completely, the darkened alley doing its work well, but she can see the mixture of anger, disbelief, and hurt on his face, his jaw clenched tight.

“Wait - no, Killian! I didn’t mean -” she reaches for him but he takes another step back from her, and she can’t say that doesn’t sting.

It’s just that, well she’s in a bit of disbelief. Emma _was_ that princess from before, she remembers how pretty, simple, and sweet she was and she can’t believe _that_ princess would be having kinky sex with Captain Hook, of all people, let alone kinky sex at all. Now, present-day, real Emma? Sure, but not her wish counterpart, never.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, Your Majesty, I’ll be going now.” he moves to walk past her but she’s not having it.

He doesn’t jump from her grasp like she expected when she tugs on his coat sleeve as he passes, but he doesn’t look happy about it either, the light from the street shining just enough to properly show her the tick in his jaw.

“Killian, please, I can explain. Just, can we go back to your ship? I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” She’s not sure if she’s got him yet, so she goes with her gut, standing on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to his jaw, feeling him relax under her lips.

He sighs, scratching behind his ear as he considers it, and without sparing her a glance he agrees, leading her out of the alley, and toward the truth.

* * *

 

His ship looks the same, from what she can see of it. The good ol’ _Jolly Roger_.

She loves this ship, has spent many nights buried in blankets on the deck, Killian’s arm around her, her head on his chest, and their joined hands tracing constellations in the sky. She’s spent evenings below deck sharing bites of salted chocolate and kisses that taste of sugar and cream. She’s spent hours prostrate on the bunk below, his lips blazing a trail down her body, the space between her thighs an inferno of need and Killian’s chuckle pressed against her navel as she begged for his touch.

She sighs at the memories, wishing life could be that simple once more, instead, she’s stuck in a wish realm with the man of her dreams and her one true love, the same man that currently won’t even look at her, simply muttering warnings at her as he trails ahead.

_Careful with that step._

_Watch your feet, the deck’s a mite bit slippery._

She wants to scream in frustration. Why did she have to laugh? Couldn’t she have held in her disbelief for a few more seconds? Let him maintain his ego for a bit longer?

But god, what a twist!

Honestly, she’s not sure she could have dreamed up something this crazy. But it is _her_ wish realm, so there must be something inside herself that could fathom this peculiarity.

That sweet, princess Emma of the wish realm, was _fucking_ Captain Hook.

“This way, Your Highness,” Killian had brought her toward the hatch that led down to his cabin, and she sighed heavily at his formality. She gets that she hurt his feelings, but she needs him to at least be receptive to listening to her, and if he’s too tangled up in his bruised ego then there’s no way she’s going to get through to him.

Maybe she just needs to show him how much she _really_ enjoys his company.

He closes the hatch gently, and maneuvers his way down the steps, lighting a few candles before turning her way.

She finally gets a proper look at him, and her heart clenches at the sight of him shrouded in the candlelight, heat rushing through her body and settling low in the pit of her stomach.

He’s a bit older than his Storybrooke counterpart, his hair graying a tad, but the thick locks still hold their dark sheen, as does his scruff, neatly trimmed and dark, peppered with gray here and there. His eyes are still the same pristine blue, the very same that she sees even in her dreams, and he looks healthy and able, just as her Killian does. Most noteworthy, however, is the change in attire. Gone is the all leather ensemble, having been replaced by thick black pants, a gray overcoat, a striped shirt and a smooth, black vest. Not a stitch of leather to be found.

Despite all of this, it’s impossible for her to think of him as anything but mind-blowingly attractive, as always, her body lighting up with the desire to touch him.

“Alright, Your Highness, what is it that you needed so desperately to tell me.” he crosses his arms over his chest, a defensive move if she’s ever seen one.

She sighs, “You can cut it with the formalities, Killian. Just call me Emma, for god’s sake.”

“I’m not sure -”

“Listen - I’m sorry I laughed. I was just, -” she sighs, trying to figure out a way to best explain this while also letting him know that she is _very_ much interested in him. Honestly, she’s not sure how he doesn’t see it, she was practically drooling over him a few minutes ago.

“You were just what, Princess?” There’s anger in his voice, something she wasn’t expecting, and she’s not sure how she didn’t notice his irritation for this long, but it seems her little stunt in the alley dug deeper than she thought, “Just trying to make me feel like a fool? Because if so, I’d say you bloody well succeeded. I knew this would happen.”

“You knew what would happen?” she takes a tentative step toward him, and when he doesn’t retreat, another as well.

He throws his hook and hand up in the air, exasperation in every movement he makes, “I knew you would tire of me! What was I thinking? That a bloody _princess_ would want me? It’s just as much my fault as-”

Emma crashes her lips to his, her mouth harsh against his own, shutting him up immediately.

It’s a rough kiss, one of passion and longing, fueled by her desire to show him that she _does_ want him and by her longing to see her boyfriend who’s currently back in Storybrooke, but who’s also kind of standing in front of her.

It’s a confusing situation and she doesn’t intend for it to go further than this kiss. Yes, it’s Killian, but she’s a little muddled with where the line is for cheating versus not cheating. Besides, she doesn’t have time for a romp in the sheets, despite how desperately she’d like to feel all of him against all of her.

She’s the one to pull away, her feet settling back flat on the floor as she stares up at him, his face a mixture of shock and joy.

“I’m sorry. But I need you to know that I didn’t mean anything by laughing. I was just shocked, and if you’ll sit down -” she motions to the chair in the corner, “I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

He considers her for a second, his eyes narrowing before he nods his head and takes a seat, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes trained on hers.

“Alright, Princess, I’m sitting, now let’s hear it.”

And so she explains it to him as best as she can. He tries to stand up and storm out a total of three times and she’s surprised he’s been even that patient. She knows she wouldn’t listen if the positions were reversed, but there’s such trust in his eyes, and she suspects, in his heart, that every time he moves to leave _he’s_ the one to stop himself, leaning back against the wall, or settling himself on the edge of his bunk.

When she’s finished the room descends into silence, only the sound of the waves rocking against the ship and the distant squawking of seagulls filling the void.

“That’s quite the tale, lass.” He says eventually, his eyes meeting hers and she finds it impossible to read what swims in those blue depths. He doesn’t look angry, but he also doesn’t look particularly happy, then again she can understand why.

“If I’m to believe this story, though, I’m going to need a bit of proof.”

“Proof of what?”

He rises from his perch on the bunk, walking toward her with steady steps, “Proof that you’re who you say you are. If you’re truly my princess,” he raises his hand to her hair, twirling a lock of the gold strands around his finger, “My princess who is also from another realm, well, then I’m afraid I’ll need proof of identification.”

“And how in the hell am I supposed to get that?”

“With this,” his hand slides from her hair to her neck, grasping the chain that sits there and pulling up, up, up, until the object at the end rises from her bodice.

It’s a ring. Liam’s ring.

Emma gasps and Killian drops the chain like it’s burned him, stepping away from her with wide eyes.

“Emma,” he whispers, shock etched on every crevice of his face.

“You gave this to her - to me?” she amends, shaking her head because if only she’d looked earlier, if only she’d figured out what was wrapped around her neck sooner, she may have found a better way to approach this situation other than blatantly offending her true love and having to beg and plead with him to listen to her.

She’s an idiot.

He simply nods at her question, and he looks so confused that she wonders if he believed her story at all. It’s like he thought her an imposter, a witch with the powers of disguise, but she’s not a Dark One (anymore) and she’s not Cora, so she’s not in the practice of presenting herself as others, but then again there was no way for him to know that.

“You really love me, don’t you?” He has to, in order to give her this ring.

He nods, “More than you know.”

“Then help me, Killian,” she rushes toward him, quick steps that he doesn’t back away from, doesn’t even flinch at, and her heart soars. This man will never not love her, no matter the realm, no matter the time, and she loves him all the more for it. “I need to find a magic bean, I need to get back to _you_ , don’t you see? I love you too, and we always find each other, that’s what we do, that’s what I have to do.”

He’s silent for what feels like an eternity, Emma’s hand grasping his hook and her eyes pleading for him to understand.

Finally, he nods, smiling down at her, albeit tentatively. “Alright, love. I’ll help you get back to your captain, though I must say I’m a bit jealous of the bloke.”

She laughs, long and loud, falling against his chest and letting him hold her, his arms tight around her body.

“There’s the Killian I love.”

 


End file.
